


A Bond of Fate

by MichiganBlackhawk



Series: Trio AU [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 22:22:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MichiganBlackhawk/pseuds/MichiganBlackhawk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a month of light duty, Jayme has to send her first regular-length report. But how do you explain a shtriga to another world? Told from Jayme's POV. Takes place slightly after the events of the first season episode "Something Wicked."</p><p> </p><p>Revised version updated 5/23/2014</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Jayme, how long you gonna stare at that thing?” Dean glanced in the rearview mirror, his eyes moving from the flat Ohio scenery to Jayme, who was sprawled out sideways in the back seat, glaring at the thin notebook-sized computer tablet in her lap as she had been for the last few hours.

“Until I figure out how the hell to start,” she said. “I’ve written hundreds of these, and all of a sudden I’m stuck.”

“What exactly do you have to write?” Sam asked.

“What happened on our last job. They gave me a pass the last month since Ahma died and I joined up with you guys—I was allowed to submit abbreviated reports. But this time I have to give a complete picture.”

“Which is how long?” Dean asked.

“Too long,” she said with a sigh. “Around five thousand words. Normally not a problem, but.”

“You have to figure out how to write something they’ll believe,” Sam said.

“Good guess, but . . . not precisely. This last job was kind of personal, and . . . I’m trying to figure out how to tell it without going into any details that shouldn’t be shared.”

“Just tell ‘em what happened, Jaymes,” Dean said. “I trust you.”

 

 

_There are no trees around my family’s house on Katarin. Trees are few and far between in Kuloranh, my birthplace. The semi-arid climate doesn’t lend itself too well to them, but some have been brought from elsewhere and planted in Kuloranh’s several parks, none of which were near my house._

_It wasn’t until I came to Earth that I experienced dwellings surrounded by trees; especially in North America houses don’t look quite right without them. My first few nights sleeping in a bedroom filled me with a fear I’ve never quite been able to shake fully; the shadows of tree limbs particularly in winter, like long skeletal fingers swaying and grasping, unsettled me and made me imagine some dark figure reaching out to claw its way into my room._

_I know. How utterly ridiculous and childish, right? I wasn’t a child, I’d had years of military training and the equivalent of a university education and here I was imagining the boogeyman. But all the rationality in the world won’t stop the mind once it starts firing up the fear, and in the dark everything looks menacing._

_All of this does have a point and leads to this last job, which took us to Fitchburg, Wisconsin._

_My perspective these days usually runs sideways; I lie in the back of the Impala, my knees propped up, either napping, reading (thankfully I am not susceptible to motion sickness) or as I am now, filling out a report. This particular job came to them through their father, who, with his usual frustrating, often infuriating lack of detail, sent them coordinates and nothing else. My theory is that for whatever reason he’s testing them, seeing how easily and quickly they can figure things out on their own, but for various reasons I keep this to myself. John Winchester is a complicated man with a complex relationship with his sons, who each look at him differently, and this often leads to conflict between them. The more I stay out of it, the better._

_Dean is what Sam calls a “good little soldier,” generally as an insult, as Dean shows a measure—a rather large one—of unquestioning obedience to his father and follows his orders. Sam sees this as a weakness, I’m sure, as he is always questioning—wanting to know why and with a willingness to refuse until he gets an answer._

_Nevertheless we went, heading from Texas (which was a relief to me since I wanted to forget those two wannabe dumb clucks asap) up to Wisconsin, Dean even letting me take a turn behind the wheel at night, a nod to my superior night vision and greater resistance to the nocturnal drowses that affect humans. Driving at night is very soothing and quiet, louder in this car thanks to the engine, which purrs in a very meditative way on long stretches of the open road._

_But enough poetics._

_We arrived two days later, finding very little in the way of anything except a nice little town. Nothing remarkable, and no reports of anything out of the ordinary happening. It was Sam who noticed something odd, something that stuck out like a sore thumb to us as soon as he pointed it out._

_It was four in the afternoon, long after school had let out, yet a nearby playground was just about empty._

_I should pause here to point something out. The Winchesters have spent their entire lives looking for the unusual, the mysterious, the unexplained. They seek these things out like a terahm scanning a field for prey. Things that would not occur to the average human draw their attention because they have been trained over a lifetime to notice them._

_Doubly impressive when you consider that two young men who have never had a “normal” life know enough about it to spot when something is out of place. Townsfolk walked and drove by the playground without seeming to see it at all, but it took Sam less than two minutes._

_They were able to find out from the lone mother watching her daughter play that several children were in the hospital, afflicted with an unknown illness. That was enough to send us in undercover as agents from the CDC (a governmental body here in charge of monitoring and working to protect public health; sadly some of our beliefs about the uncleanliness of humans are based in truth). I know the idea of me representing any kind of official agency, especially one charged with so solemn a subject, must be absurd, and it is. But I think I pull off the professional look pretty well._

_Sam and Dean have become adept at infiltrating everything from hospitals to medical examiners’ offices, posing as reporters, physicians, police, whatever type of official would be best suited to find out information. At least in this I have to do no explaining, since they do on an almost daily basis what we’ve been doing for millennia, even if they don’t possess the actual skills behind their fake credentials. I’ve observed, however, that they are (with some exceptions) smarter and more informed than any imposter._

_Since my last report Sam has been endeavoring to begin to teach me in a few weeks what it took them a lifetime to learn. There is an entire world of which the vast majority of humanity remains completely unaware—perhaps blessedly so. Those who believe in spirits or monsters are labelled insane, delusional, drug-addled, or worse. But I’ve seen things that defy easy explanation, and they’ve made me a believer._

_Anyway. Without going into too much detail that has little relevance, the basic form of their work involves gathering information and determining whether the situation is caused by something supernatural. From what Dean’s told me it isn’t always the case. They both have the keen ability to take in data and determine whether it involves something from human nightmares or not. In this case children were falling ill and lying unconscious, afflicted with what doctors assumed was pneumonia. It only took a few seconds for me to run a discreet medical scan that completely ruled it out. What didn’t make sense to them—and what I didn’t find out until afterwards because in the moment I didn’t have a clue—was that it was affecting siblings and caused by something as unlikely as an open window. Also, their father sent them to this particular town. And that makes all the difference._

_But I’m getting ahead of myself._

_They spoke with the father of one of the victims, and deciding that he would not be returning there for some time, we went to his home. Breaking and entering is also part of the job; it’s a necessity that they don’t feel the need to make excuses for, and therefore neither will I. They may play fast and loose with the law, but their criminal acts are always in the service of a greater good, and they don’t steal from the people they’re trying to save._

_Sam found the print on the windowsill. Long, clawed fingers imprinted deep into the wood, which had rotted under the touch of whatever it was. Too narrow to be one of us in our other forms, and entirely the wrong configuration to be one of us in human form. But this time Dean didn’t even ask. He just stared at it, his eyes unfocusing, remembering something I couldn’t guess. Sam clearly didn’t know either, just looking at his brother and the windowsill in confusion._

_“I know why dad sent us here. He’s faced this thing before. He wants us to finish the job.” He was trying to sound casual and failing miserably. This was obviously something much more than a normal hunt, as we were to find out. ___


	2. Chapter 2

“How’s it going?” Sam sat down next to Jayme, feeling like a tutor coming to check on the progress of a frustrated student.

They’d stopped in Pennsylvania just north of Gettysburg, where interstates 76 and 81 crossed. Finding a motel had not been a problem, one with a Civil War motif that definitely favored the Union. “After all, this is their home ground,” Jayme said, stretching as they got out of the car.

“Hard to think of your mom being around here back then,” Sam said.

“Yeah, certainly not a happy time, but an interesting one, in the full Chinese curse sense of the word.”

Things had been very quiet after that, Jayme frowning and staring at her computer, writing for a few minutes, then pausing, then writing again, her sounds of frustration punctuating the silence. Finally Dean got up, offering to go out and get food for the room “before she drives me nuts,” he muttered to Sam on his way out.

Jayme handed the tablet to Sam. “See for yourself.”

“Very funny. I don’t read Katarinian.”

“ _Shesh-ketera anghaleteh_ ,” Jayme said, and the script changed to the Romanic alphabet Sam recognized.

“Wait, this thing—”

“Will display information in whatever language I tell it to, yeah.”

“Handy.” He scanned what she had written. “So what’s the problem?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Well, you’ve certainly gone into a lot of detail on what we did but it’s kind of dry.”

“Yeah, I know. I guess I’ve lost my touch.”

“But this is supposed to be a report, so maybe they expect it to be dry. You know, trying to maintain that whole ‘dispassionate observer’ thing.”

 

 

_Dean Winchester is one of the more unusual humans I’ve met, and considering my activities in the past fifty years, that’s saying something. He shares with his father a maddening aversion to giving information. He’ll give short, vague answers—for example, when Sam began questioning him about what they were up against, a shtriga—when you’d expect him to share what he knows freely. When he says “That’s all I know” his expression doesn’t match. In this case his insistence that this shtriga—a witch-like creature—had just “gotten away” from their father rang hollow._

_We found a motel and checked in, moving into a mode I am fast becoming used to—Research. Sam on his laptop, me on mine, Dean at the counter with paper materials. The pattern with these is the same; what are we dealing with, what are its characteristics and patterns, and how do you kill it? It’s less instinctual than one of our hunts, but they’re going up against beings that are sometimes smarter and usually more powerful than they are._

_Shtrigas are witch-like creatures that can literally drain the life force from you; what the lore calls ‘vitae.’ Very similar in description to the Sel’ve’th but without the tendrils. They are a variety from Albania with roots in ancient Rome that can feed on any human, but prefer children. This seemed to strike a particular note with Dean, who takes his job very seriously, but never moreso than when children are involved. Then he takes it personally._

_Sam, who is usually the one who knows the_ pahr menn’fehr _(humans call it the A to Z) of the things they hunt, was in this case wrong; shtrigas are vulnerable to consecrated wrought-iron rounds, but only when they are in the middle of feeding. Needless to say, a very risky proposition._

_With the who and how taken care of, the question was where. I know that human tracking skills are a source of great amusement to some of us, and for most humans that perception is only too true. But they are just as capable of tracking down prey, and these two are especially adept. They determined that the victims’ locations were all centered around the hospital, and Dean had seen an old woman there, fitting the description of a shtriga’s usual disguise—an elderly human female. This one also had an inverted cross on the wall, a symbol associated with anti-Christian groups (see database entries on Cross of St. Peter)._

_Since joining the Winchesters they’ve slowly learned how to take advantage of my extra-human abilities, not just limited to my other forms. I’ve learned that monsters can often take on human form in a way that can completely fool the eye and occasionally the nose, but sooner or later they give themselves away._

_We returned to the hospital to follow up on this potential lead. I am not an expert in this field so I kept my doubts to myself, but it just seemed too easy and too obvious. My own experience with living incognito has shown me that you don’t put something as obvious as an anti-religious symbol on your wall in the very building where your victims are. I understand that lay humans are unlikely to ascribe supernatural causes to clues the way Sam and Dean do, but you can never assume._

_In any case we found her room and entered, the two of them with weapons at the ready. I prefer to leave the firearms to them. I knew right away that this was not a shtriga or anything other than an elderly human. I let Dean figure out that on his own when the old woman startled them both. Then it was back to square one. Or so we thought._

 

 

When Jayme threw her computer Dean was able to snag it in midair; he’d never gotten the chance to hang out with the hippie frisbee players and wouldn’t have even if he did, but it was still a nice catch. He looked at the curved characters on the screen with a frown.

“ _Shesh-ketera ingalett_ ,” Sam said, frowning when the flat tablet in Dean’s hands beeped in an almost annoyed manner. “What’d I do wrong?”

“It’s _anghaleteh_ ,” Jayme said.

“What did I say?”

“Gibberish.”

Sam gave her a bitchface. “ _Shesh-ketera anghaleteh_.”

Dean blinked as the text on the screen changed to English. “Sweet.” He scanned the paragraphs. “This is it? This is what you’re supposed to do?”

Jayme nodded. “When I can get the damn words to come out.”

“Yeah, well, this is just ‘we went here then we did this and then we did’—do your people actually read this crap?” He held up his hand. “What I mean is you could put a meth head to sleep with this.”

“Exactly why I’m having trouble,” Jayme said. “With music it was so much easier—I could show them concert films and stuff. But I have to explain this and let’s face it, your job can get kinda technical and complicated.”

Dean gave Sam an odd look. “Well, that’s a new one.” He walked over to the bed and handed it to her. “What can I say, keep going. Gotta finish it, right?”

 

 

_The motel where we were staying was run by a woman with two sons. It did not require any of my keen senses to see that Dean saw himself and Sam in those two boys. When we returned the elder of the boys was sitting outside, radiating sadness. The boy’s younger brother was ill, under the same circumstances as the others. He blamed himself for leaving the window open and causing his sibling’s pneumonia, but by this time we knew better. He said that he felt a responsibility to look after his brother and this situation meant failure to do so._

_When Dean was four years old there was a fire at his home. His father handed Sam—who was still an infant—to Dean and ordered him to take his brother out of the house to safety. That was the beginning of a lifelong responsibility Dean feels towards Sam. Over their lives their father drilled this into Dean’s head—his most important job is to watch out for his brother, and it is a responsibility Dean takes more seriously than I can imagine him taking anything._

_It makes him understanding when he sees this attitude in others, and it revealed in this case a sense of compassion that drew me quite strongly. The cockiness and ‘I don’t care’ attitude fades, revealing a strength inside that I’ve seen in few humans._

_The boys’ mother was understandably frazzled and worried, trying to organize her affairs before heading to the hospital. Dean insisted on driving her with that same expression of calm determination on his face. As she got into her vehicle he turned so that only Sam and I could hear him._

_“We’re going to kill this thing. I want it dead, you hear me?”_

_Never have I seen a human look so much like one of us._


	3. Chapter 3

“Jayme, it’s three in the morning and that light is keeping me awake,” Dean muttered, rolling over. “Aren’t you done yet?”

“I have to collate these biological profiles and link them to the archived genetic sequences of the Sel’ve’th and create an open-face profile for—”

“Forget it, you lost me at collate,” he groaned. “Just turn it down a little, huh?”

“Yes dear,” Jayme replied, turning the contrast down. 

 

 

_Since joining this strange pair of human hunters, there have been times when they’ve asked me if it’s possible that what they’re hunting could be a neromancer. I try not to get defensive, since to be honest some of the signs do point to one of us and we are responsible for some of the monster myths that plague mankind._

_Now it’s rapidly become an in-joke. For example, Sam and I went to the library after making sure Michael—the boy I referred to earlier—was all right. I’m catching on fast but Sam still has a decade of experience on me, so I followed his lead._

_Sam is twenty-three, an age at which many humans are still in college. From what I understand he earned a ‘full ride’ to Stanford University (as we know, in the United States and many other countries on this planet, education is free only to a point, after which students have to pay to attend advanced schools, and currently these amounts are obscene, so to earn through effort one’s college education at no cost is quite a feat) and was preparing to enter law school when Dean interrupted his studies to look for their father._

_Far be it for me to make any judgments on his life, but secretly I feel it would have been a waste of his talent. I have no doubt he would be a skilled lawyer, since much of their work is focused around things he already does by instinct—tracking down information, making strategies, etc. all with winning in mind, but the law is dull, even on our planet, and somehow I feel certain that even the most exciting case cannot compare to a hunt._

_It excites me to see him work, how his attention draws down to a bead, his eyes razor sharp even over mere words, how he is able to find information with ease and his mind has the hunter’s nimbleness to be able to make connections and draw a picture. He fights this so hard and I don’t know why—he thinks he wants a different way of life but I truly wonder how much he might be running away from what he wants. In the moment, all of that fades and he enters into_ whenneya. _As I’ve said, I am beginning to see much of us in them._

 _Starting with_ amsha, _he sought out any other instances of these illnesses in the region, and together we scoured the library’s microfilm for them. I would have preferred to use our computers as it would have taken a fraction of the time, but that might have aroused suspicion. In true fashion, he started with the information he had from his father and branched from there. I used a few tricks I’ve picked up to help speed things along, and we were able to establish the_ peshara _of this particular creature, which study revealed has been feeding on children in various towns since the Earth nineteenth century—almost one hundred of their years._

_Sometimes things just come together at the right moment. Sam was speaking with Dean when he happened upon an old photograph from 1893, in the middle of which was the doctor we’d seen at the hospital the day before. Over a hundred years have passed, and the good doctor doesn’t look a day older. Sam naturally asked (see what I mean about in-jokes) and I assured him that if the doctor were a neromancer he’d show some aging after a century._

_We had found our shtriga._

 

 

The rolling hills of upper Pennsylvania looked no different than the rolling hills of lower New York state as they headed north, Dean behind the wheel and blasting Led Zeppelin at the vines they passed. Even now it still felt like home.

Sam turned around in the passenger seat. “How can you read with all this noise?” he shouted.

“I’m used to it, Sam. Trust me.”

“Did you finish yet?” Sam frowned. “Why are you smiling?”

“Yeah, did you put in a funny computation or something?” Dean said.

“Bugger off, both of you. I sometimes just think funny things, okay?”

 

 

_I knew Dean would be angry when he found out that the very doctor caring for the sick children was the one who had made them ill in the first place. He kept it under control but they were both livid, pacing around the motel room as soon as we were back together. Dean said that he hadn’t gone armed to the hospital or he’d have burned a clip into the good doctor just on principal, meaning he would have used his weapon even though it would have done no good._

_Having determined who we were after, we moved to_ tetenhya, _planning how we would go about destroying this creature. It may be true that they hunt for a different reason, but the actions are the same._

_Here is where I found out why this hunt was different._

_When they were sent on this hunt they were given coordinates. Nothing more. They had to figure out for themselves why they were sent there, and it was clear by now that it was beyond the obvious. Sam thought that their father had sent them, but Dean saw it differently._

_Dean has a hard time opening up; like many human males, he thinks that talking about feelings or things that are bothering him is a sign of weakness, but he is at least smart enough to realize that there are times when it’s necessary. This time I was not expected to leave the room. Evidently I am now part of the gang enough to hear things of a sensitive family nature._

_When they were young, their father took them to Fort Douglas, Wisconsin. From what I understand, when Dean and Sam were children their father would often leave them by themselves once Dean was old enough to understand instructions and, in their case, fire a weapon. Theirs was an upbringing that would certainly have aroused the horror of other humans, especially ones who concern themselves with the welfare of children, but in some ways John Winchester raised his sons as if he were a neromancer, although with a good deal more sternness._

_But Sam and Dean are not neromancers, and their early life was not a Katarinian one. From what little I’ve been told it was constantly moving from motel room to motel room, or being left (or, as Dean puts it, “dumped”) with friends or relatives for weeks at a time, and when their father was around, he was either inebriated or more concerned with drilling his sons than doing any kind of nurturing._

_I know that Ahma saw a different side to him, and I have as well, but even so the hardships have left their mark. There is a regret and bitterness for the lives they were forced to lead, and, I’m sure, uncountable wishes over the years for things to have been different. I can relate._

_Anyway, in this case Dean was left to watch his brother, and like young children everywhere, he became restless, and after days he was, as he called it, “climbing the walls.” Motels on this planet are not exectly centers of excitement for adults, and can be unutterably boring for children. (Interesting side note; although human children are much smaller and weaker than ours, they can do an extraordinary amount of damage to things and cause an amount of mischief that seems totally inconsistent with their power.)_

_He left his brother alone in the room, locking the door behind him, and went a short distance away to where there were some games (video games, see prior reports filed under Human Technological Diversions 1988 – 1992). Something that other human children take for granted, the ability to have fun and be a child._

_When he returned the shtriga was in the room with Sam, about to feed on him. He went for the gun, hesitating before the creature as someone young and untrained will sometimes do. His father burst in and fired, sending the shtriga running. His concern rested with his younger son but his anger was directed at his elder son for not doing what he was told. They left, and when John returned, the shtriga was gone._

_How can I put into words, how can I explain the tangled emotions at play here? Maybe I don’t have to. These people are not all that different from us, and these humans are closer than most. Dean blames himself for many things—letting his father down, nearly getting Sam killed, and most of all, the entire reason for his focus now, letting the shtriga get away so that it could go after other kids. I could tell it weighed very heavy on him, and he refused any absolution because of his young age._

_And it is because of this that Dean took everything personally, and was determined to end it himself._

The’shana noora aahs ti nha shu’na. _Or, as one of Dean’s favorite movies put it: “You and I have unfinished business.”_


	4. Chapter 4

“Seriously, Jayme, you’re not finished yet? You know, if you’re gonna ride with us you need to work on our stuff too.” Dean tossed his cup into the trash can. The little roadside burger joint was picturesque in a northeastern sort of way; Sam was already absorbed in their next case at the table beside them, poring over newspapers and his laptop.

“I have to make sure they understand what it is I’m doing with you guys. Let’s face it, most of the stuff I’ve experienced is pretty out there. I have to do a lot of explaining and give a lot of background. And I have to make it sound—”

“Not completely psychotic?”

“Partly. I have to make sure I’m not giving away any information that could compromise you guys. Not that I think that anyone would, but you two have taught me the value of being paranoid.”

 

 

_Now it was a matter of how. And the how was the tricky part._

_We don’t usually use bait in our hunts; it has its uses but often leads to trouble. Bait in this world is a different thing altogether._

_Both Sam and Dean have served as bait for creatures before. They do it willingly, with the full knowledge of the risks involved. In this case, the shtriga was going after siblings, and we had a sibling right in our midst. Sam objected, suggesting one of us instead, but Dean was certain that no trick would work._

_They turned to me to ask Michael, I suppose since as a female I’m less threatening. I certainly didn’t want to do it, and suggested that since Dean had all the smarts he should do it._

_The initial response was not encouraging. Of course, asking a child to submit himself to a monster intent on drawing the life from him is not exactly something you should expect him to leap forth to volunteer for. But surprisingly enough, he came around, and agreed to help us._

_A final hurdle. We’d already decided that since I was small enough, I would conceal myself beneath Michael’s bed; since I may not have been able to be the bait, I could at least be in the room in case things went wrong. The question was whether to tell Michael of my shape-changing ability or not. If things went as planned there would be no need for me to change. However, if things went awry and I needed to shift forms in order to protect him, I didn’t want him to be driven into a panic. We went around and around and finally decided to tell Michael that if he felt fur, he was to close his eyes tight and remain calm, that furry arms would be there to protect him, not hurt him._

_He did not seem reassured by this. Can’t say that I blame him._

_Sam and Dean took up position in the other room, weapons at the ready, a hidden camera allowing them to monitor the room since I would not be able to shout or make a sound once the shtriga arrived. Michael lay in bed above me, keeping so still and silent that were it not for the faint sound of his breathing I might have thought he’d managed to run off. I stayed underneath, the covers obscuring everything save one spot where I could look out and see the open window through which we expected the shtriga to come. It was just as spooky as when I first came to Earth, watching bare tree branches move back and forth like grasping fingers._

_“Jayme, you still there?” Michael said after we’d been waiting over an hour._

_“Right here, kiddo,” I replied._

_“Do you think everything will be okay?”_

_“No promises, but yes, I do. When they come in, just roll out of bed and get under here. I’ll keep you safe. That I can promise.”_

_“Okay,” he said, going silent. I promised myself that I would not let him get hurt if it were in my power to do so._

_We didn’t have long to wait. A few minutes later I saw movement at the window, a long skeletal hand like something out of my nightmares pushing the window open fully and sliding in. I tensed, resisting the instinct to snarl. I could hear Michael’s breathing grow rapid, though I heard no movement from above. The shtriga reminded me of one of the nazgûl (see entries on J.R.R. Tolkien’s work “The Lord of the Rings” under Human Literature, Britain, 1950-1960), a tall figure in long, ragged black robes. It was definitely not a human wearing a disguise, and the harder job was now resisting the mad urge to shrink away from it._

_It drew close to the bed, so close that its scent overwhelmed me, and I could hear Michael’s breaths speed up, though there was not a hint of movement. I heard a low hissing sound and waited, trying to figure out what the hell Sam and Dean were waiting for._

_It would have been so much easier if Michael were a neromancer. Humans, for all their intellect and endless imagination, do not view life as we do. Most of them live for comfort, shying away from things that are dangerous or physically demanding. Most cannot fight without extensive training that only a small fraction of them choose. Katarinian children are not just physically stronger, but mentally as well. Perhaps it’s all the scary stories adults fill their heads with—and that’s without the benefit Sam and Dean have, knowing that the monsters are real._

_But human children can surprise you. When Dean kicked the door in Michael rolled off the bed just like we practiced, and I pulled him close as the guns went off above us._

_Then silence._

_We thought it was over, but the shtriga was not willing to go so quietly. It was tenekheka, feigning death, and when it rose it threw Dean across the room as if he were a child himself. Then it turned on Sam, and all my instincts cried out for me to change forms and attack, to grab the thing that was sucking the life from Sam and rip it to pieces, but I had a more fragile life to protect, and the Winchesters are not children._

_Besides, it wasn’t my right. This was Dean’s_ eterehn. _Humans—at least, humans in this country—have no equivalent term. Revenge comes close but doesn’t mean the same thing. Revenge is giving back to another what that person did to you. This was more righting a wrong, giving Dean closure with what he saw as a failure. So I wasn’t going to interfere; it was his fight, and his to complete._

_He didn’t disappoint. His shot was true and the shtriga fell. Everything was silent as Michael and I came out, staying on the other side of the bed as Dean finished the creature off. I never got a good look at it but it was not human, that I can say. The scent I got from it—I might not have seen its face but I was mere inches away—was not like any human scent I’ve ever encountered. This was something completely different._

_Michael came out, looking to Dean for reassaurance that everything was really over. I remember very clearly the expression on his face, a gentle smile as he placed a hand on Michael’s shoulder, saying without words that everything would be all right. The thing that has stayed with me is that at that moment I saw a different side of Dean, what was really beneath the image he projects to the world—a smartass who doesn’t take things seriously. That, in a way, is as much a cover for him as mine is for me._

_I’ve been with Sam and Dean for almost two months now, and just in that short time I’ve gotten a very good taste of the lunacy that is their lives, my intitial excitement giving way to a larger sense of the seriousness of what they do. It’s an enormous thing to ask of two humans who are both still so young, despite everything they’ve seen and done that has forced them to grow up very quickly._

_I know I’ve alluded to those things before in my more abbreviated reports, but it was this hunt that made me realize how much it’s affected me, and how close I’ve grown to them. I will stay with them as long as they’ll have me._

_To finish the story, though this is hardly fiction; the boys’ mother returned the next morning after we had cleaned everything up, leaving no sign of what had happened the night before. Dean asked how Michael’s younger brother was doing, receiving the good news that he was recovering, as were all the other children who had been attacked. As well, Dr. Heidacker—the disguise worn by the shtriga—had not been seen that day and was assumed to be sick. Dean agreed, his face giving away nothing._

_You would think that with the things they do that the Winchesters must have an enormous store of gratitude and appreciation from those whose lives have been saved through their efforts. Much to my irritation this is not always the case. I think that some people are so shaken by the things which they now know are real that they haven’t yet come to grips with things by the time we leave. Others have offered thanks with the knowledge that words aren’t enough, but they don’t know what else to do or say. I think in Michael’s case his thanks were given in his joy that his brother was going to be okay, and of course his mother had no idea what had really happened and hopefully never will._

_We left shortly thereafter, Sam wishing that he could have had the same innocence about the things that really lurk in the dark, and Dean wished that for him too. Not for himself, I noticed._

_I think this moment is when I fell in love with him._

 

 

“It reads like stereo instructions.”

Dean looked up from the laptop before him. “Dude, I thought you said you’ve never seen that movie.”

“‘If you don’t let me gut out this house and make it my own I will go insane and I will take you with me!’” Jayme shrieked. She grinned as Dean winced. “Catherine O’Hara is great and you both should bow down to her.”

Sam just shrugged, handing Jayme’s computer back. “Well, it certainly gives all the details. But I thought you had to put in some stuff about your feelings and perceptions and all. I can’t even tell from this if you even like us.”

Jayme gave him a small smile. “If you haven’t figured that out by now you’re not very observant. Besides, we’re already into another job here and I need to get this in. I’m about to go over deadline. I can put mushy stuff into the next one.”

She sat back as the pair argued over what to do next, keeping her expression absolutely neutral as she closed and deleted what Sam had been reading, giving her real report a final look before submitting it just as Sarah arrived, drawing her attention to business of a different sort.


End file.
